There Was a Thing With These Ostriches This One Time
by uisceB
Summary: Modern AU Morgana/Morgause. Morgause is just peacefully trying to be a successful lawyer, and then Morgana Pendragon waltzes in, needing legal counseling after having just murdered her own father. Things get crazier than they should, and there are raccoon hats and iguanas. But mostly just smut and inappropriate lawyer-client relationships.


I

Morgause strongly disliked the term "murderer"-it was so…so…_common_. Sure, there had been those few rumors a few years back in her law school days about her involvement in the deaths of two or three of her professors, but none of that had ever been _proven_. Not _officially_. And Morgause was certainly not going to tell anyone the real story, she found this whole "air of mystery" thing hugely appealing in herself.

It did make running a private law firm somewhat difficult, though, she had to admit that. It was rare that anyone truly _innocent_ would ever put their faith in a solicitor with Morgause's questionable past, so she usually ended up with the clients that were just about _this side _of guilty. Which was beginning to put her credibility at stake. Certainly her paycheck.

She often flirted with the idea of just…up and leaving. Going to someplace grand, or maybe just someplace stupid. Florida. Canada. Finland. Someplace with sea turtles or large quantities of moose.

Today was one such day that Morgause had really just had it. Although generally speaking she had no issue with rats, she was less than excited to find one such rodent chewing on the leather armchair in her private office when she came in first thing in the morning. Apparently pest control didn't exist unless someone was paying the _bills_ or something.

Today would be the day, she thought resolutely as she sprayed the animal with a fire extinguisher, the only thing she really had on hand. The day for change. The day to escape, the day to conquer…conquer a thing that would be very impressive. _Extraordinarily_ impressive. She'd leave this ridiculous excuse for an office behind, she'd very _happily _leave her filing assistant Cenred behind, and she'd run off and do something fabulous, or at least something very damaging.

Which of course was the moment that Morgana Pendragon waltzed into her tiny broke-down office, every bit the Daddy's-little-rich-girl in her designer dress and that vaguely bemused expression that seemed to beg to understand why, if she was using an umbrella, her strappy heels had gotten so _wet_ in the rain…?

"Do you want me to take this one?" Cenred asked under his breath.

"Try it and I'll have you killed," Morgause muttered back, and shoved him back into the filing room which was where he was meant to be working anyway. She turned her full attention to the black-haired beauty who had just pranced in, eyes darting skeptically around the state of the office.

Morgana Pendragon was not a household name, but she was a familiar face if you believed in reading the tabloids. She was a socialite, the adopted daughter of some ridiculous CEO-type or another, some horrible human called Uther Pendragon who ought to be killed just for existing (in Morgause's humble opinion). The young Pendragon daughter's latest tabloid escapade had involved her making out with her step-brother Arthur in public, only to have it revealed later that same night that Arthur was actually her _half-brother_ and Uther Pendragon was actually the person responsible for her _existence_, not just her upbringing.

Morgause had never been one for tabloids herself, but Cenred loved them, and it was hard to ignore a face like Morgana's when it was on the front cover.

And now, here she was, standing not five feet from Morgause, with the strangest mixture of pride and deep discomfort written all over her face. This was not a combination that made any sense whatsoever, so Morgause simplified the whole effect by coming to the conclusion that Morgana was very simply the most exquisite thing she'd ever laid eyes on.

"Can I help you?" she asked finally when Morgana just seemed to appear more and more lost amongst the decay of the office.

"Oh, yes," said the younger woman, stepping forward to the desk, placing her hands delicately on the edge. "See, I may or may not have just murdered my father, and my friend Gwaine-he's on the police force-he said I should probably get a good lawyer, or I'm bound to end up all locked away and dressed in orange."

"I…" Morgause processed this for a moment. Well she was certainly forthcoming, wasn't she?

"Normally I would've gone to a bigger name," Morgana continued, "but everyone's turned me away. They all seem to think I'm guilty already and that the only reason I haven't been arrested yet is that there isn't enough like, _physical_ evidence or whatever, but my motive's all there, and really, you _know_ the tabloids are just _itching_ to watch me go up in flames you just _know_ it. So anyway, I had to come to you because this boy I know called Alvarr, he said you have sort of like a _thing_ for cases where people are guilty, and I'm not, you know, I'm not _admitting_ anything, not for the record or anything, but I feel like you'd probably be a good choice. I'm Morgana Pendragon, by the way, I don't know if I remembered to mention that."

Morgause smiled, she really couldn't help it. "Yes, I know who you are," she said.

Morgana actually looked troubled by that. "You're not going to turn me away too, are you? I'm really not used to all this rejection, I'm about this close to throwing a mild tantrum. Nothing serious, but I know it makes people uneasy when I start throwing things around the room…"

"Morgana." Morgause lifted the hinged edge of the front desk so Morgana could join her on the other side. "Why don't you come with me to my office, we can see if we can sort this all out together."

Relief washed over Morgana's pretty features and she pranced-really _pranced_-over beside Morgause, following the older woman down the very short hallway past the filing room (from which that rodent Cenred was leering after them) and into her private office.

Morgause seated herself in the leather chair at the far side of the tiny oak desk and motioned for Morgana to sit herself in the one opposite which she did somewhat warily, as though afraid the chair might be rigged somehow.

"It'd be good if you could tell me what happened," Morgause prompted, trying to break the younger woman out of her nervousness. "I promise, so long as I'm paid, I'm completely on your side. You don't have anything to fear from me."

Morgana took a deep breath, then delved in with great gusto. "Well it's not like I'd never _thought_ about killing him before," she said. "I suffer from terrible nightmares and insomnia, but I've found that the best way to lull myself back to sleep is to fantasize about different ways of killing Uther Pendragon. Don't you think that's sort of funny? First I thought drowning him in a well might be fun. Then beheading, but no one actually _does_ that anymore, do they, so I'd either start a new wave, or people would think me too old-fashioned once it hit the papers…"

"Morgana," Morgause interrupted kindly.

"Sorry, you're right, I didn't mean to babble, I have a problem with that sometimes, do you know you have a perfectly straight nose, it's very nice," Morgana said in one breath. Then she continued. "Anyway, how I did it, you know, assuming that I did it, it was with a peanut butter cookie."

"…Is that so?"

Morgana nodded eagerly. "It's actually some of the most sure-fire proof I've gotten so far that Uther really _is_ my father," she said. "We both have the same peanut allergy. Well, that and restless leg syndrome. And a propensity for mildly sociopathic behavior."

"Mildly."

"Fine, _moderately_. But anyway, so the peanut butter cookie, I was really just sort of hoping he'd end up with a nasty rash, see, he was about to go and announce to the press that he was leaving the entire company to _Arthur_, and really, how on Earth is that at all fair when I'm his child as well, I'm _older_, I've worked for him far longer than _Arthur_, weekends, holidays…anyway, I thought if he got a rash he'd look sort of stupid in front of everyone, but instead…"

"He didn't get a rash," Morgause guessed.

"No, he did," Morgana said. "But he also sort of…" She let her hand flop backwards, presumably in imitation of Uther's death.

"I see. And people…were there any witnesses? Anyone who saw you offer him the peanut butter cookie?"

"The entire staff."

Mm. Good. So, not only was the press absolutely salivating to see Morgana Pendragon crash and burn, there were now witnesses who could link the cookie-Uther situation with Morgana.

"I'm sure the courts will have to realize it was just an unfortunate mistake," Morgause offered unconvincingly. "I mean, it's not as if you _meant_ to kill him."

"You're very sweet, but I doubt it," said Morgana. "Because I've also often complained loudly and publicly about how I want Uther dead. There's just all these nasty little build-up things that I know are going to come back to haunt me on this one." She reached forward across the desk, clasping her hands over Morgause's. "It's just such a comfort to know I at least have _one _person on my side."

Was that Morgause's imagination or did Morgana just brush her thumb up over the underside of Morgause's wrist? Not that thumb-wrist-brushing was an aggressive sexual maneuver by any means, but…

"I'm happy to help, Morgana," Morgause told her.

Morgana gave a little squeal of delight and leapt to her feet, skipping to the door. "You're absolutely the sweetest thing," she said. "I've got to go call Gwaine, tell him someone actually finally agreed to help me…"

"Morgana." Morgause stood, trying to reel the younger woman's attention back in where it needed to be. "Morgana, I know it's ugly business, but we do still actually have the matter of cost to discuss."

"Oh, well I can't possibly pay you _now_," Morgana said. "I told you, everything went to Arthur, i don't have a penny to my name. But I'm certain that after you win the trial for me, I'll be able to make a fair case to get at least _half_ the inheritance, then I can pay you anything you want, but, y'know…for now, I'm living on my friend Gwaine's couch. I've been eating cereal every meal for the past couple days…"

"Morgana, I…" Morgause looked away, actually feeling guilty, which was not a familiar or enjoyable sensation. She had truly wanted to help this very lost, very beautiful, _clearly_ unstable woman. But she had her own bills to pay, she couldn't afford to take on a client for _nothing._ "I'm sorry, but I require half upfront. I can't honestly help you unless I'm paid."

Morgana's face fell. "No, no, no," she murmured and strode across the room, putting herself barely an inch from where Morgause stood, taking her hands in hers again. "Please Morgause, you have to help me, they'll eat me alive out there. They'll toss me away…I'll spend the entire rest of my life in a prison cell with a bunch of ill-groomed hags, wearing…wearing _orange_…and then, because I'm so much prettier than all of them, they'll try to hurt me, they'll break my legs or something awful and I'll be stuck with a terrible limp for the rest of my life. I'll be Morgana the Gimp. Mor-gimp-a."

Morgause stared. So…Morgana was…from another planet. But God, if she wasn't the most gorgeous thing Morgause had ever seen, grey eyes wide, lips trembling. Far and away the most adorable moderate-sociopath ever to walk the earth.

"I…I _can't_, Morgana," she forced herself to say. "I'm this close to being evicted already, I can't afford to do any favors…" She attempted to unclasp their hands, but Morgana held tight.

"What about a trade," the younger woman begged, desperation becoming quite apparent. "I could…I could come work for you. You could get rid of that horrible weasel man in the filing room…"

"Cenred."

"Yes, him, he's awful, have you seen his teeth? I could do his job, you wouldn't have to pay me at all, anything you needed me to do I could do it, i could stay until I'd worked everything off…"

"I'm at least fairly certain that wouldn't be legal…"

"Well what I've done isn't exactly legal either," Morgana countered. "I mean, you know, if we're pretending like I did it, which I'm not confessing to or anything." She stamped her foot, more desperately than angrily, biting down on her lower lip. "All I need is a _chance_, Morgause, please. No other solicitors in the city will even give me that. I'll work really hard for you, I'll do anything you tell me to. Anything at all."

Oh for fuck's sake. She was going to regret this, she knew it, she was. This was exactly not at all what she'd had in mind earlier when she'd decided she was going to do something either very fabulous or very damaging. Though, she supposed Morgana Pendragon counted as both.

"There is every chance you will still be found guilty," she told the younger woman, and Morgana held her breath, hope-filled. "I'm good, but I'm not a miracle worker, and you're right, these people will stop at nothing to see you burn." She took a breath. This was going to bite her in the ass. Right. In. The ass. "But I will _try_."

"Oh my God, I _love_ you!" Morgana breathed, throwing her arms around Morgause, pulling herself tightly into her. Morgause was taken off-guard for a moment and actually found herself unable to respond.

Morgana, sensing she may have overstepped a boundary, pulled away, scratching at her nose as if that's all she'd meant to do. "I mean, not…I don't…_love_ you…" she fumbled. "Just…y'know…_thank you_…"

There was a sudden clatter from outside the door and Morgana jumped. "Oh my God, it's the press, they've found me!" she cried.

"No," Morgause said, opening the door to reveal Cenred, crouched over as if he may have been trying to peer through the crack in the door. "Just the weasel man we were discussing."

"Oh," Morgana said, swinging her purse over her shoulder and looking at Cenred contemptuously from over her nose. "You're fired," she informed him cheerfully, and flounced out the door.

"I'll see you here tomorrow at 8," Morgause called after her, wondering if the younger woman would even remember their agreement . Nevertheless, she gave Cenred a significant and highly self-satisfied look before closing up shop for the day. She had just completely fucked herself over, and she was having a hard time actually feeling badly about it.

II

The fact that Morgana had actually _murdered_ her father seemed to finally hit the brunette the next day; she showed up at Morgause's office completely in tears and it took a good hour before Morgause was actually able to calm her down.

"I hate him so much!" Morgana cried, burying her head in the crook of Morgause's neck. "I'm glad he's dead, that fucking piece of shit!"

And then a few moments later… "I think he really loved me, fucking Christ, what the fuck was I thinking, peanut butter!"

Really, the entire scenario took place in Morgause's arms, so Morgause was in absolutely no place to complain. She smoothed down the younger woman's hair, managed to refrain from doing anything inappropriate to her (though admittedly just barely) then sent her off with a mound of files to be sorted away, wisely repeating to Morgana a line she'd heard from one of her old associates, Nimueh: "Nothing mends a broken heart so much as hard work."

There was a second part to Nimueh's old saying which involved murder, but again, Morgause was just so reluctant to ever talk about _murder_. It was so ugly, and really, couldn't things just be left in the past where they belonged?

In any case, Morgana turned out to be a very efficient filer, which sort of left Morgause wondering what exactly Cenred had been doing with all his time when he'd been working for her. So efficient was Morgana, in fact that she was finished with all paperwork by lunchtime and now looked exceedingly bored. She sat at the front desk winding the phone cord around her finger, and then apparently decided to use it as a slingshot, fitting pencils into the coils, pulling back, and then shooting them across the room.

Morgause did her best to focus on the work at hand as Morgana's slingshots flew about her office. The way she saw it, if she was to convince a jury to let Morgana off the hook, she'd have to make a bigger monster out of Uther than Morgana, and that required a great deal of research into Uther's past. Then, of course, one of Morgana's phone cord missiles went very much awry of its target and landed in Morgause's coffee, splashing the blonde woman in the face. Thankfully, at this point, it was cold.

"Morgana, didn't I give you a stack of files to be put away hours ago?" she asked.

"I _did_ them already," Morgana said. "Don't you have anything else for me to do around here? I sort of thought this would be hard work or something."

Morgause glanced around. Morgana had finished with everything? Well, she supposed the younger woman must have to have been a fairly efficient worker if she'd been employed by Uther Pendragon for all these years.

"You seem to have made quite a mess of my floor," Morgause observed, noting the pencils, paperclips, and rolled-up wads of paper Morgana had shot across the room. "Why don't you start with picking those up."

"I don't _clean_," Morgana said, wrinkling her nose. "I've got this great girl that comes in and cleans my house once a week though called Gwen, I could see if she's available…"

"Not actually looking to hire anyone, Morgana, that's sort of the whole point of you working here," Morgause said, returning her attention to an interesting note regarding Uther's son that Nimueh had left her several years back. Nimueh always had been a little militant, and certainly a slight bit obsessive in her hatred for the Uther Pendragons of the world. "Besides, aren't you the one who said you'd do anything I told you to?"

Morgana scowled, throwing her head back in exasperation and slid off the chair, bending over to collect her scattered missiles.

Morgause tried hard not to look- she actually, really did- but then utterly failed because, well, that was _Morgana_ bent over on the floor and Morgause was relatively certain she'd never see a better sight for the rest of her days.

"Do you have a trash bin somewhere…?" Morgana asked, and turned her head back to look at Morgause over her shoulder. She paused, realizing that the older woman's eyes were already on her, and looked away quickly. Morgause did the same. Then they both looked back at each other. At the same time.

For Christ's fucking sake.

"In the…corner there, there's a trash thing," Morgause muttered and scribbled something down furiously. It actually wasn't anything. It was literally a scribble done _over_ the important note Nimueh had left her. So much for that helpful tidbit. Christ.

Morgana got to her feet silently and discarded her collection into the trash. Morgause looked down at the scribble she'd made with fearsome intensity, as though it was the most important thing ever to exist on paper. And she tried to ignore the sound Morgana's heels were making as they approached her from behind.

Morgana leaned over the desk beside Morgause, hands braced on the edge, looking over the seemingly endless piles of paper regarding Uther Pendragon. "What are you doing?" she asked.

Morgause sighed, turning her head to look up at her. "Well you're guilty," she said. "At least in the eyes of, you know, everyone. So really, the only way to get you out of hot water here is if we can come up with a really good reason why you might have killed him."

"I did kill him for a really good reason. He was being a miserly, avaricious, self-serving ass."

"A good reason the jury can get behind."

"Oh." Morgana ran a finger absently over a page with Uther's photograph on the front. "He really was awful," she said. "He hired this man to kill the neighbor's golden retriever because it wouldn't stop barking one night."

"I…do you have any proof of that? That might actually be helpful," Morgause told her, surprised.

"Oh, no, he was often hiring people to kill pets or neighbors or friends," Morgana said off-handedly. "Even my maid…the cleaning girl I was telling you about, Gwen…Uther hired someone to kill her father. Not really sure why. I just think he didn't really care much for, you know, _lower class_ people…I know I'm not supposed to call them that, but you know what I mean."

"I…suppose…"

Morgana looked down at Uther's picture, brow creased. "Morgause, she said, voice soft. "Do you think I'll be arrested?"

Morgause looked at her carefully. "I would guess that the police are doing everything in their power to gather enough evidence to arrest you," Morgause told her honestly. "At the moment, I think all that adds up to is a few dozen witnesses who saw you with Uther. Not enough to book you yet, but with a little poking around, certainly enough to get you called down to the station."

"I don't want that."

"Well, no. I don't think either of us do."

Morgana hesitated for a moment, then sort of hooked her fingers around Morgause's, squeezing lightly. "You don't know how much it means that you took my case," she said. "Not even my friends have tried to offer me any support."

"What about…what's it…Gwaine?"

"Well he just feels indebted to me because I chained him up and rode him like a pony one time for his birthday," the younger woman said matter-of-factly. "I don't think he even really likes me all that much."

Morgause swallowed. Well there was an image. Possibly one she'd have some difficulty trying to rid herself of later that night.

"Is there…anything else you want me to do around here?" Morgana asked, and Morgause realized she was staring at the younger woman like a complete idiot.

"Nope," the blonde answered, clearing her throat and tearing her eyes away from her. "No, you're free to…go to lunch, if you want."

"Because I can help you…research or whatever," Morgana continued, her fingers still hooked around Morgause's. "I told you, I can do anything you need me to around here. Anything you want."

Morgause shot a look up at Morgana. "That's an awfully dangerous word you're throwing around," she warned, "'anything.' You should be careful with it."

Morgana chewed on her lip, eyes bright. "Why?"

The blonde allowed herself a small smile, looking down at Morgana's hand curled around her own. "Because someone might take you up on it some day," she said.

It would appear this was code for something because all of a sudden, Morgana had pushed her back in the chair and was now climbing onto her lap, straddling her legs and kissing with an unrelenting hunger.

Well...

Well then.

Morgause grabbed instinctively at the back of the brunette's thighs, moving her hands up to her ass, praying the rickety chair would survive under their combined weight. She licked up into Morgana's mouth, drawing a small whimper from the younger woman.

"Uhm…this is…what you meant, right?" Morgana asked breathlessly, looking a little unsure of herself.

Well, yes it _was_ what Morgause had been referring to, even though she hadn't exactly meant she herself was going to be taking advantage of it…still, the word _no_, however prudent it may have been to use at this time, was not in any way part of Morgause's vocabulary.

"Get on the desk," she murmured instead, pushing Morgana up off her lap and back so that the younger woman was perched on the edge of the desk.

"All your work…" Morgana pointed out as some of the files slid to the floor.

Morgause stood to join her, pushing the dark-haired woman's legs apart to press her body up between them, working her hands up under her skirt. "You can pick them up later," she said with a grin, shoving a couple more of the files to the floor and out of her way. She mouthed her way up the front of Morgana's throat, pausing to suck at the point where the brunette's pulse was positively racing.

Morgana's head dropped against Morgause's neck and she groaned, nails gripping helplessly at the older woman's shoulders.

"Lie back," Morgause mumbled in her ear. When Morgana didn't immediately obey, she tried again, thumbing between her legs on the outside of her panties. "Go on, Morgana, lie back."

Morgana did as she was told with a small shudder, using her legs to pull Morgause down along with her. She ran her fingers through the blonde woman's hair, holding her back gently when Morgause tried to lean down to kiss her. Morgause paused, looking down at her. If she didn't know better, she'd almost want to say that the younger woman's expression looked a bit…_uncomfortable._

"Are you alright?" Morgause asked, confused.

"Yeah, I'm…" Morgana offered that sweet smiles of hers and stroked her fingers through Morgause's hair, out of breath. "I just…I've never…before…y'know…with a _woman_…" She laughed, embarrassed, face flushing. "I'm not really sure what I'm doing…"

Morgause looked down at her in surprise. Morgana had more or less struck her as the type of person who had done everything at least once, possibly only because she'd gotten a few too many drinks in her, but everything nonetheless.

She glided her hand gently along the inside of Morgana's thigh, leaning in carefully to ghost her lips against her jaw. "Did you want me to stop?" she asked, voice a bit more rough than she'd intended as she sucked Morgana's earlobe between her teeth.

Morgana clenched her legs around her. "No, that's…you should definitely keep doing that," she gasped. "Definitely, definitely keep doing that…"

Morgause was really only too happy to oblige, getting a hand inside the younger woman's underwear and beginning to press and stroke between her legs.

Morgana jerked against her in surprise when Morgause slipped first one finger, and then a second up inside her, rubbing against her clit with her palm. She slid her legs up around Morgause's sides. panting and clawing at her, skin hot and damp. "God, that's fucking incredible," she breathed, making Morgause laugh a little.

"We'll have to schedule in some time for you to learn how to do it too," she told the younger woman, nipping at her neck, "given that you're supposed to be doing anything I want you to do."

"Yeah…let's do that," Morgana agreed, squeezing her eyes shut and pulling Morgause harder against her throat.

"Not exactly fair if I'm the one doing all the work around here."

"No, it isn't…Morgause," the younger woman moaned weakly. "It's really, really not fair at all…"

"You going to come for me?" Morgause asked with a low purr against Morgana's ear.

"It's definitely starting to look that way…" The younger woman's hips were thrusting shortly against Morgause's fingers and her breath was coming in high-pitched whines and gasps. It wasn't long before she clenched down hard around Morgause's fingers, trying to stifle a surprised cry into the older woman's neck. Panting still, she kissed Morgause desperately as she came down from her high, as if she was afraid she'd never get the chance to again.

Morgause pulled away first with a satisfied smirk, cupping Morgana's jaw and brushing her thumb over the younger woman's lips. Morgana parted her lips, taking the older woman's thumb into her mouth, curling her tongue around it and sucking hard for a moment before gazing up at Morgause from under heavy eyelids.

"So _that's_ why I never liked boys all that much," she said breathily, as though having finally wrapped her mind around quantum physics. "I think you just cleared up a lifetime of sexual frustration for me in about ten minutes."

"Five, i think," Morgause hummed with a smile, flicking her tongue against the patch of skin beneath Morgana's ear. "You should see what I can do with another _twenty_."

III

Given how undeniably sexy Morgana was, it was mind-boggling to Morgause how miserably their lesson on "how to effectively fuck another woman" was going.

"Jesus Christ, Morgana, have you never heard of a nail trimmer before?" Morgause exclaimed, yanking the other woman's hand away from the more or less sensitive between-the-legs region of herself.

"Well I'm no good at painting my nails unless they're long," Morgana said, pouting. "I have to grow them out before I paint them or else I get nail polish all over my fingers. Look, look how good they look."

"You have given yourself _claws_," Morgause told her, hugely unimpressed with the manicure the younger woman had given herself. "Which is fucking painful. Also, you absolutely _do not_ just shove a finger in there when you've no idea what you're doing. That _also_ is really fucking painful. Have you honestly never done this to yourself?"

"I _have_," Morgana snapped defensively. "But they do that all the time in pornos and _they_ don't ever complain about it being painful."

"Morgana," Morgause sighed in what she hoped was at least a somewhat patient tone, "by all means, watch all the porn you want. But please, _please_ don't ever try to watch it for educational purposes."

It had been a week now, and Morgause was…not as far along in the case work as she normally would have been at this time. This was mostly due to the fact that she'd been spending most of her time tangled up with Morgana in some respect or another, which really, was not even her fault; Morgana was nothing if not incorrigible. And insistent. And horny, like, _all _the time.

But it wasn't until today that Morgana had rolled Morgause over on the desk and pinned her down, demanding to be taught how to "pull some of the weight around here fucking-wise." Morgause told her that was a fantastically un-sexy choice of words but Morgana seemed to be too busy getting the blonde's shirt undone with her teeth to pay much attention.

Morgause guessed the younger woman's sudden desire to "pull weight" had something to do with having been intercepted on her doorstep by Chief Inspector Merlin Emrys who was tactlessly demanding she report to the police station as soon as humanly possible to be interrogated. Morgana seemed to view the entire experience as a personal attack on her character and claimed it was nothing short of a chauvinistic power play.

Morgause considered telling her this was a perfectly legal and very much _expected_ part of the investigative procedure, but Morgana wasn't interested in details like that. Instead, she seemed hell-bent on reasserting her sense of power by any means necessary.

And if that meant fucking Morgause completely senseless, then Morgause was basically fine with that.

And Morgana was good- to a point. Kissing her had always been amazing, Morgana did wonderful things with her mouth, despite the odd things she often chose to say with it. But when it came down to _sex_…Morgana just really had no idea what on Earth to do with her hands.

And she legitimately had claws. Which were fun for exactly _nobody._

"Why don't we try something else," Morgause suggested, kissing the younger woman sweetly to try and soften the insult.

"Well like…like what?" She was actually clueless, and completely devastating because of it.

"I don't know…something where you're not clawing up my insides," Morgause said. "Like your tongue, try using your tongue."

Morgana looked uncertain but she said, "Okay," and kissed Morgause, seemingly for a boost of courage, and then nibbled her way down the blonde's body.

The tongue suggestion turned out to be a great one. Morgana was insatiable and it was probably mere minutes before Morgause was clawing at her scalp, begging her not to stop.

Now if she could just get her to trim her nails, things would be absolutely perfect.

IV

Things were _not_ absolutely perfect. Yes, Morgana had finally learned what fingers were for, and yes, Morgause was more or less starting to fall a little bit in love with her, but the evidence in the case against Morgana in the mysterious death of her father, Uther Pendragon, was starting to add up. In addition, there seemed to be not a soul in the entire city who didn't want to see the little raven-haired angel burn, to the point where even Gaius, Morgana's doctor since childhood, was being called to testify against her.

One morning after having been practically chased down the street by ravenous tabloid photographers, Morgana came into the office and, flinging herself down on Morgause's desk with a dramatic sigh, said, "I'm dead. I'm dead like a skeleton on birth control."

This was not a sentence, nor did it make any sense whatsoever, so Morgause kissed her, and then pulled her up so she could cradle her more properly against herself.

"You know I'll destroy everyone in this entire world before I let them take you," she promised, lifting the brunette's legs so they were around her waist where they belonged. "You belong to _me_ and anyone who says otherwise will be brutally castrated and thrown in the gutters to be devoured by rats and homeless cannibals."

Too much time spent with Morgana was giving Morgause a very colorful new way of talking.

"Is it weird that it really turns me on when you talk like that?" Morgana asked, dragging her nails up the older woman's spine.

"A little," Morgause said, "but I'm certainly not complaining."

Morgana kissed her hard then, pulling her as close as the laws of physics would actually allow, clinging to Morgause like she was the last living thing on Earth, and forcing her tongue with dominating force into Morgause's mouth. She slid her hand down to cup the older woman between the legs.

"I really want to watch you come," she pleaded, undoing the zipper at the front of Morgause's pants. "Can we…?"

Morgause sighed. "I'd love to," she told her, nipping at her bottom lip, but then pulled back, re-doing the zipper of her fly. "However, if we're to have any chance at avoiding you having to wear…orange, and be re-named Mor-gimp-a, we've got a lot of work ahead of us."

Morgana frowned, reaching her hands up under Morgause's shirt. "Why would I be re-named Morgimpa?" she asked.

Morgause smiled, trying to still the younger woman's hands. Morgana was smart as a whip, but she was also entirely scatter-brained and her memory seemed to fluctuate between picture perfect and totally non-existent at any given moment. So Morgause just shook her head and said, "Nothing, just something you said the first day I met you. But listen, you actually do need to let me work today, or you'll be spending the rest of your days behind bars."

"You could come with me," Morgana suggested. "We could find someone for you to kill too, then we could both be locked up together…God, think how fun that would be…"

Morgause looked at her carefully. "Morgana, has anyone ever told you that your brain is a very strange and terrifying place?" she asked.

"I don't see what that has to do with anything. Please will you just take your clothes off, they're getting in the way of everything…"

Luckily (or unluckily, really, Morgause wasn't quite sure), at that moment, the phone rang loudly on the desk behind Morgana. "Saved by the bell," Morgause murmured, pecking Morgana lightly on the lips as she reached across her to pick up the phone.

The voice on the other end of the line was male and teetering on the verge of what may have been an actual stutter. "H-hello," it said, in what seemed to be an attempt at an authoritative tone. "I'm looking for…looking for a…Morgeh…Mor_gah_…Mor…Mor_goose_?"

Morgause raised her eyebrows and Morgana looked at her curiously. "Yes, well. Speaking. I suppose."

"Did I pronounce that right?" came the voice.

"Not remotely. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes, I'm Chief Inspector Emrys…"

"Oh," said Morgause, eyeing Morgana and moving away from the desk so she could actually _focus_ on this conversation. "I was wondering if I was ever going to be hearing from you, you've certainly taken your time getting in touch with me."

And speaking of "in touch", Morgana had just slid off the edge of the desk and was now slipping her arms around Morgause's waist from behind, pressing kisses to the side of the older woman's neck.

"Well that's actually sort of what I'm calling you about, Morgess," came Inspector Emrys's voice. "You _are_ acting as Miss Pendragon's legal advisor, correct?"

"Yes, that's…that's correct," Morgause affirmed, trying to swat the brunette away from her. This just made the younger woman grin against her neck, nipping down to the sweep of her shoulder and working at getting Morgause's fly re-undone.

"Well, see that's sort of troubling to us here," Inspector Emrys said. "We've tried you at all the phone numbers Miss Pendragon provided us with and haven't been able to contact you, but Miss Pendragon has been insisting we carry on meeting with her, even with you absent…"

"Mm-hm," Morgause agreed breathily, biting down on her lip as Morgana dragged her nails low across her waist and then slipped her hand down between her thighs.

Then Morgause's eyes snapped open and she grabbed a hold of Morgana's hands to stop her. "Hang on, what do you mean 'Miss Pendragon's meetings with you'?"

Morgana withdrew her hands slightly, sensing trouble.

"I mean, if a suspect chooses to participate without a lawyer present, that's her prerogative, we suppose," Inspector Emrys answered, "but with the trial being less than a week away, it's getting to that point where we'll be needing you to actually start showing up. It's not very professional of you to sort of throw your client to the wolves like this, Morgrell, she's certainly not doing _herself_ any favors, and it's making it difficult for me to be able to do my job…"

"Well how many times have you spoken to her without me there?" Morgause demanded.

"Five, uhm…five times."

"That's so interesting," Morgause said, shooting a look at Morgana. "I'll have a chat with my client. Thank you, Inspector."

"Actually that's not all," Emrys sputtered. "See, you're sort of in some trouble yourself, having been absent for so much of the proceedings. Not to mention…we recently received a tip from an old employee of yours insinuating that your relationship with Miss Pendragon may not be entirely…y'know...altogether…"

"…Well?"

"We'd just like it if you came in to answer some questions," Emrys concluded. "Thank you for your time Mur, uh, Murgriss."

The phone clicked and he was gone. Morgause hung up the phone a bit more slowly, leaning back against the desk and fixing Morgana with a critical gaze.

"Something wrong?" the younger woman asked, already looking guilty.

"Well, seems you're in a bit of trouble, Miss Pendragon," Morgause said, folding her arms across her chest.

"Thank God," Morgana breathed, taking a step forward. When Morgause continued to stare her down unmoving, she paused, realizing. "Oh, you mean like copying-down-lines trouble, not being-spanked-with-a-ruler trouble."

"Mostly I mean legal trouble," Morgause told her, trying again to block out these images Morgana was so good at conjuring up for her. "Inspector Emrys says he's met with you _several_ times and was never able to get in contact with me…you never thought that maybe I should possibly _be there_ for these interrogations?"

"I didn't want to trouble you with all that _bullshit_…"

"I'm your _lawyer_, I _have_ to be there, certainly at this point in the game! And what do you mean you didn't want to _trouble_ me?"

"Well, I…" Morgana broke off, looking embarrassed. "Maybe I just didn't want you to hear all the things they're accusing me of, alright? They're digging up everything they can find, every little mistake I've ever made, and I just, I don't know, I wanted you to think I was…better…than I am."

Morgause tried very hard not to think about those murder accusations she'd been faced with all those years back, and what might happen if Morgana ever found out about _those_, speaking of wanting to appear _better_ than she actually was.

"Morgana, I already know you murdered your father with a peanut butter cookie, how much worse can it possibly get?" she asked comfortingly.

Morgana sighed, exasperated. "Well there was a thing with these ostriches this one time, and it's not like a big deal or anything, but I was sort of afraid it might cross a line for you or something."

Morgause could not even _begin_ to imagine what kind of trouble Morgana might have gotten into that involved ostriches, but somehow it just really didn't surprise her all that much. She reached out her hand and pulled the younger woman closer.

"Well at any rate, they'd like me to come answer a few questions," she said. "Looks like you're no longer the only one with a bit of a legal mess on your hands."

Morgana looked alarmed. "Not _you_, not because of me, because I wouldn't let them contact you…"

"A little," Morgause told her honestly, "but I can easily get myself off the hook for _that_. No, I'd say our main problem now has to with the fact that _someone_, and by _someone_ I mean clearly _Cenred_ has decided to pull some sort of revenge stunt for my having fired him. He's probably trying to insinuate that my relationship with you isn't _appropriate._"

"Well what does that have to do with _Uther_?" Morgana cried. "That's _bullshit_!"

"Nothing to do with Uther whatsoever. But it _would_ mean I'd have to resign from your case. So there's that."

Morgana wrapped her ams around the older woman's waist, pressing her forehead against Morgause's. "I really think we should just kill all of them," she said, "solve everything in one fell swoop."

Morgause clasped her hands over the younger woman's. "Morgana. No."

"Why not? They'd have to leave you alone then."

"Much as I appreciate it, sweetheart, the last thing we need for you is _another_ murder charge," Morgause told her, smoothing back her hair.

"Well, I mean, I wouldn't mind, not if it was for you," Morgana said loyally. "Violence is how I show my affection for someone."

Morgause kissed her sweetly. "And that means the world to me. But I've got to head down to the station before this gets uglier than it is," she said.

"You don't even _know_ ugly yet," Morgana told her. "Inspector Emrys has got a pet iguana he hangs around his neck all the time called Kilgharrah. He wouldn't even let me pet it."

Morgause told her she'd see her later.

V

Chief Inspector Merlin Emrys did indeed have a pet iguana wrapped around his shoulders who he called Kilgharrah. This, however, was not the most upsetting thing. Throughout his interrogation of Morgause (which idiotically involved him trying to accuse Morgause of being the _mastermind_ behind Morgana's alleged cookie attack against her father), Inspector Emrys paused several times to look deeply into the iguana's eyes and ask its opinion on the matter at hand.

The iguana, obviously, never responded-it was a fucking _iguana_, what was he expecting, a soliloquy?-but Inspector Emrys would always bow his head sagely as if the iguana had passed on some valuable insight to him, and then continue with his questions.

Morgause was really starting to get fed-up at this point.

"As I've said before," she snarled, "my involvement with the possible-_possible_-murders of my old law professors five years ago, has never been proven. I am doing nothing but providing legal counsel to Morgana, my own past is not the one on trial here."

"Morgana?" Inspector Emrys asked, making a note.

"Miss Pendragon," Morgause corrected, kicking herself inwardly.

"Still, you two seem like a couple of bad seeds working together," Inspector Emrys commented, petting Kilgharrah soothingly on the head. "Given your own history, it's not far-fetched to believe you might have orchestrated this entire thing, seeing how Uther Pendragon was, at one point, an associate of all three of your deceased professors."

Morgause raised her eyebrows. Now that, she actually hadn't been aware of.

"I wouldn't doubt that someone such as you might decide to take your revenge on Uther Pendragon by poisoning the mind of his only daughter against him, finding out about his respiratory system's inability to process peanut butter, and then sending her off to do your dirty work. _Spreading the seed of evil,_ if you will."

Morgause stared. "That's the most moronic thing I've ever heard," she said. "I knew nothing about the Pendragons until Mor-until Miss Pendragon hired me. I assure you, my interest in Uther and his daughter starts and ends there."

Inspector Emrys gave Kilgharrah a look, which was utterly ignored by the iguana, and then rummaged in his pockets. At last, the wiry Inspector produced a camera phone and directed the blonde woman's eyes to a series of pictures on its screen of herself and Morgana in what could only be described as a somewhat compromising position.

"As far as interest goes…" Inspector Emrys said, "we received these from an ex-employee of yours."

Morgause stared at the pictures, jaw tightening. Fucking Cenred. _Fucking_ Cenred. He was a weasel. A disgusting, horrible weasel that should be fed to Kilgharrah the iguana...

"Do you typically put your head between your clients' legs when advising them?" Inspector Emrys continued.

Morgause snapped her eyes up to meet his coolly, looking distastefully at that self-righteous expression on his face. "There was a problem with the zipper on my client's pants," she told him.

"Which you decided to take care of with your teeth?" he asked, brow creased.

"I suffer from crippling arthritis. I've been advised not to use my hands whenever I can avoid it."

Inspector Emrys glanced at Kilgharrah who looked entirely disinterested. "I'm not sure I believe you," he said to Morgause.

"Well, if you don't have anything more to ask me about the actual case at hand…" Morgause began, getting to her feet.

"Morgeeze," Inspector Emrys interrupted, standing as well. "You'd be well advised to drop this case. There's really no hope for Miss Pendragon, and after what Cenred's provided us with on you, once she goes down, you'll go down with her. The press, if nothing else, will see to that. So if you've got any sense of self-preservation at all, you'll let this case go. You'll let Miss Pendragon get dragged down where she belongs. And you'll move on."

VI

"I've got a suggestion," Morgause said the next morning when she came into her office, gripping a coffee with all her might.

"Ooh, good, me too," Morgana chirped, already there and perched on the edge of the desk with her ankles crossed. She reached behind her and produced a large, shiny double-headed dildo.

"I…what is that?"

Morgana looked at it. "I have absolutely no idea, but that nice lesbian at the sex shop assured me that it's fun for everyone, and _I_ told her I'm strictly off cocks these days, but then _she_ told me-"

"Morgana, please…" Morgause hushed her, taking the younger woman's face in her hands so she had her undivided attention. "I…that sounds wonderful, love, but I need you to listen to me right now, alright?"

"If you don't want to, I understand, if it's not your cup of tea or whatever," Morgana chattered on, "I was more thinking for practical purposes, it'd free up your hands in case you wanted to be doing all that dreadful _work_ you always seem so hell-bent on finishing…"

"I…Morgana…" Morgause took her by the hands, clasping them in front of her. "You're brilliant and insane and I love you, but please shut up, okay? This is important."

"I'm listening," Morgana told her, eyes suddenly wide and alert. "I always listen to you."

"…Okay. Well…" Morgause trailed off, realizing she had no idea how to say what she needed to say. "It's just that I may have don something a bit…bad."

"Is this about those law school professors you killed and didn't want me to find out about?" Morgana asked. "Because I've known about them for ages, sometimes when you fall asleep at your desk you start muttering their names so I did some research online, it wasn't hard to figure out, I just didn't want to tell you I knew because I know you like to think you're very mysterious, and you are, just maybe a bit less than you think, especially when you talk in your sleep. I'm fine with it though, you don't have to worry about that."

Morgause was stunned for a moment. Leave it to Morgana to find her one source of shame and blow it all off like it was all in a day's work.

"I…no," she said at last. "Actually, no it wasn't about them. It…" She took a breath. She'd just have to spit it out. "Well it seems I've murdered Cenred," she said. "A little bit."

There was a small pause. Then-

"A little bit?"

"A lot a bit. I pushed him down some stairs and then bashed his head in with a rock."

Morgana gazed at her unwaveringly. "Would it be rude of me to ask why?"

"He threatened me. More importantly, he threatened _us_. I told you, I won't let them take you from me."

Morgana seemed to be processing this information very hard. "Well you've certainly outdone me," she remarked at last. "This just makes my peanut butter cookie murder look downright silly."

"Sweetheart, your peanut butter cookie murder always looked pretty silly," Morgause pointed out.

Morgana pressed in to lean her head against the older woman's shoulder. "You did it for me, didn't you," she asked.

"I had a moment where I pictured being without you and I guess I…went a little insane."

"Yes, that's exactly how it was when I pictured being separated from Uther's company card," Morgana said, pulling back and nodding wisely. "Love just so often leads to gruesome murder, it's amazing anyone survives." She wound her arms and legs - really her entire body - around Morgause, hugging her tight. "So what now?" she asked against the older woman's neck.

"Well that brings us back to the suggestion I was going to make," Morgause said, inhaling deeply against her hair. "I'm thinking we make a run for it to Canada."

Morgana pulled back, frowning. "I can't go to _Canada_, all they do is eat bacon there, I can't eat bacon, it's bad for my skin," she said.

"No one would recognize us there. We could start a new life, disappear, never be found again."

Morgana considered this. "I suppose I could always just live on maple syrup," she said. "But I won't be caught dead in a raccoon hat, I just won't."

Morgause tucked a strand of hair behind the brunette's ear. "It wouldn't be what you're used to," she said quietly. "No inheritance, no designer clothes…"

"No murder charge…Morgause, I really adore money. If I could eat it and have sex with it, I would. But honestly, I don't give a fuck about a silly inheritance as long as I get to have you. Why do you think I keep telling you I'd do anything for you? I love you. I really deeply love you. I'd kill a hundred Cenreds for you. Probably more than that, actually, I really hate him…"

"We'll probably be caught," Morgause told her honestly. "This is one of the shittiest plans I've ever come up with. But if there's even a chance you and I can get out of this, that we can be together…"

"It _is_ a pretty horrible plan," Morgana admitted. "But probably murdering Uther and doing that thing I did with the ostriches weren't great plans either. We'll be okay. As long as we're together, we'll be fine."

It wasn't much to go on, but with Morgana's fingers threading through her hair, and deep kisses being pressed to the side of her neck, Morgause was more than willing to give it a shot.

VII

Canada was a very silly place. There were more moose than anyone should ever have to deal with, and more strip clubs than could ever be considered appropriate, given how sparsely-populated those little towns were. Still, people were friendly enough, and certainly consistently drunk enough that they probably wouldn't cause much grief.

Morgause would have liked to be able to say that their journey there had been stealthy and cunning, as befitted her air of mystery. Then again, she'd forgotten it was _Morgana_ she was escaping with and Morgana may have caused a small scene at the airport. There may have been gunshots and fleeing involved. They may have spent the entire plane ride crouched amongst the luggage in the cargo deck to avoid being found.

Still, against all laws of rhyme, reason and reality, they'd made it. They'd found what could best be described as a hovel on the very outskirts of town, and now Morgause was seated in a hot bath upstairs, trying to relax, and realizing that, no matter what she told herself, that was now _four_ acts of murder she had committed. And while, yes, each and every one of them certainly _deserved_ their fate, she was grateful to be granted a little down time. With Morgana. Who had just appeared in the doorway of the bathroom wearing absolutely nothing but a raccoon hat on her head.

Morgause broke into a laugh at the sight, the first in a long time. "I thought you'd taken a stand against those," she said, indicating the hat.

"Well, I had," Morgana said, eyeing herself in the mirror. "But it turns out I look really fantastic in fur. Plus I think it'll help me fit in better. What do you think?"

"Hard to say," Morgause said honestly, "The rest of you is pretty distracting."

Morgana smirked, clearly pleased with herself and circled round the back of the bath so she was behind Morgause. She slid her arms down around Morgause's shoulders, pressing her mouth against her ear. "Move up, I want to get in with you," she whispered.

"I don't know, I'm pretty comfortable," Morgause said, so Morgana pushed the ball of her foot in between the blonde woman's shoulder blades to make her scoot forward and slid down behind her in the bath, managing to slosh a good majority of the water in the bath onto the floor, which only made Morgause snort with laughter.

"We really need to work on your sense of tact," she remarked.

Morgana slipped one hand around Morgause's waist, trailing it up to grab at her breast, squeezing her nipple. "Do we?" she asked innocently as Morgause's breath caught in her throat. "You don't seem to be putting up much of a fight."

Morgause tried to think of a good retort, then forgot what the word "retort" meant as Morgana's fingers teased lower and lower and her breath labored in Morgause's ear.

So, alright. Morgause could admit it now. She was a murderer. A horrible, filthy murderer. And so was Morgana. And now they were both on the lam from the law, and somehow had ended up exiling themselves to _Canada_ of all God-forsaken places.

But, she realized, questionable morals aside, she'd do all of it again if it meant she could just hold onto this moment forever, with Morgana pressed up against her back, coaxing her into ecstasy. It wasn't a healthy mindset, Morgause was aware of this. But really, as Morgana tangled her fingers in her hair to pull Morgause's head back gently into a kiss, Morgause really couldn't find it in herself to care all that much.


End file.
